


all worn out and nothing fits

by foxgloved



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gen or Pre-Slash, M/M, Post-Episode: s01e08 Bad Blood, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-05
Packaged: 2018-05-24 20:09:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6165176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxgloved/pseuds/foxgloved
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Jace has never been scared in his life.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	all worn out and nothing fits

**Author's Note:**

> for the prompt jimon + things you said when you were scared. title from foo fighters' 'skin and bones'.

Jace has never been scared in his life. That’s a mundie emotion–- it’s beneath him, beneath any Shadowhunter with any sense of dignity.

But he thinks he feels something-– it’s not fear. It’s not fear, he’s not scared, he tells himself; his pulse jumps and his heart skitters, and he watches as Simon shudders in the dirt beneath him. His hands tighten around Clary’s shoulders, drawing her back as she yells herself hoarse–- tells Simon he’s not repulsive, not a monster. (Vampires are monsters. There’s no question about that, no matter what Clary wants to say to make her mundie–- shit, he can’t call him “mundane” anymore, can he–- best friend feel better.)

After Clary’s shaken his hands off and stormed off, a hurricane with striking red hair and pale skin that isn’t glowing quite as much as Raphael’s but still as bright as the moon above, Jace sighs and kicks himself down onto the ground. The stars tremble above them, and Raphael has disappeared into the shadows, and Simon’s shirt is stained with blood, his hands shaking as he presses them to his face.

“It could be worse,” Jace tells him, though it falls flat. Simon looks up to him, and he looks terrified that he can see through the cutting edges of the night, every inch of Jace’s face without glasses. “Mundane–-”

“I’m not a mundane, anymore,” says Simon. His eyes flash, and for a moment, Jace sees the same bit of anger there’d been when he’d pressed him up against a wall and pressed a knife beneath his chin. The memory sends chills that aren’t from the night’s coolness down his spine. “And could you at least try to learn my name?”

“I know your name.” He could, perhaps, punctuate this with a mocking _mundane_  or maybe, a new nickname: _bloodsucker_ , he thinks with ease. “Simon,” he says, instead. He isn’t that cruel.

Simon isn’t, either, not pointing out the slightest quiver in his voice.

(There isn’t a quiver in his voice, Jace tells himself, but it’s feeble.)

 

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://npdsolo.tumblr.com/)


End file.
